


Dreamer

by platonicUnderling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 1920s, Burlesque, Haikyuu - Freeform, M/M, New York City, Nightclub, burlesque is old-timey stripper if you didnt know, but here we are, dreamer - Freeform, haikyuu!! - Freeform, i didnt mean for this to be porn, lol, mostly plot, stripper x bodyguard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonicUnderling/pseuds/platonicUnderling
Summary: In the height of the Roaring Twenties, a poor man grasps at straws to pull himself out of debt, and a rich man loves nothing more than a new toy.((to give you an actual sense of the plot, it's new york in the 20s, akaashi is a burlesque dancer, bokuto is a dreamer, and all of their friends laugh at their love affair for however many chapters i can crank out before i collapse and die))
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	1. I Need This Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cerulean_snowflake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerulean_snowflake/gifts).



> hi i am writing the story, hope you can forgive me

New York was icing over, and so was Bokuto Koutarou. His cheeks were red from the wind coming off the wharf, but he made no effort to warm himself. It had been a long December -- really, it'd been a long year, but Kou was trying to take it in small parts and keep himself sane in the process. He stood, propping himself up on one of the concrete poles that halfheartedly guarded the water's edge. The wind stung his cracked lips, and he licked them in an attempt to assuage the stinging, despite knowing that they'd only crack again once they dried, and it would probably hurt worse the second time.  
Kou huffed, and his breath clouded his vision for a moment, crystalizing in the frigid night air. It was nine in the evening when he'd left the Alley Cat (a respectable establishment under the propriety of one Kenma Kozume), and that had been some time ago. The security gig he'd barely managed to bag for himself began at eleven, and he'd spent a good hour and a half staring out over the waves and philosophizing. Koutarou liked to think he was someone special -- an elevated mind amongst the common folk -- but the rational part of his brain reminded him that everybody had cogs turning behind their glassy eyes, and warned him that he was slipping dangerously close from tormented poet to pretentious asshole. Perhaps the ability to reprimand himself for his own occasional affected streaks set him apart from the average man; there were many pretentious assholes in New York who seemed to saunter about unchecked. He caught himself just as he was about to drop into another spiral of thought -- the wharf was a dangerously contemplative place at times like these, but Kou had a schedule to keep. He shook his head and forced a smile, though no one was there to see it, and marched off toward 52nd St. This job would turn things around, he was sure. Or at least, he hoped.  
The walk was half an hour of freezing silence, but as he came upon his destination, Koutarou felt the cold begin to melt away. The building was bustling, packed to the brim with customers and surrounded by hopefuls trying to squeeze their way inside despite the establishment being clearly at capacity. The windows glowed a muted orange through the thick leaded panes. He could hear jazz, slow and sultry, pulsing from inside. Kou knew not to try the main doors; those were for the guests -- rich folks, swaddled in satins and silks to keep out the cold. He headed instead for the back of the building, hoping to find a service entrance. Hanamaki hadn't given him many details -- really, he had only told Kou to be there at eleven and to look presentable. Kou looked down at his white cotton shirt, stiff and scratchy from a recent wash. He smoothed it as he approached a door in the rear of the club. Koutarou reached up to knock on the door, but it flew open before he had the chance.  
"Yeah? Well, you couldn't pay me to stay in this flophouse one more second!" A man stormed out, shoving his way past Koutarou.  
"Oh," yelled another voice, "Don't worry! You're free to go, you bastard!" The man to whom the second voice belonged hung out of the doorframe, shouting insults after the one who had left earlier. "Cockroach! Sleezebag! Ratface! Let me catch you in here again -- Hey!" The man's face brightened as he noticed Kou standing bewhildered in the snow. "Koutarou! Get in here, you rascal!"  
As the man stepped back inside, the yellow light illuminated his face and Koutarou recognized him as Hanamaki, the friend-of-a-friend who had gotten him the job. Kou looked him over; his hair was a pale reddish-brown, his clothes seemed more uniform than personal, and his impish smile hinted at a generally facetious manner, but he seemed harmless overall.  
"It's 11:15," Hanamaki said. "I was starting to think you weren't gonna show."  
"Sorry," Kou said distractedly. He took a quick survey of his surroundings. They were in what he guessed was a staff room. There were metal lockers up against one of the walls, and a table and some chairs in the center of the room, which, save for the two of them, was empty.  
"I don't mind," Hanamaki grinned, "but the boss hates it when people ain't on time." His eyes lit up with a mischievous glow. "You're lucky we're short-staffed."  
Koutarou wondered what the boss was like. From what Hanamaki had said, he pictured an austere old man who would be quick to fire him over any little missteps. He stoop up a little straighter.  
"Since you're late, you'll only catch the end of the show," Hanamaki said, walking to a door opposite the one they had entered through.  
"Show?" Koutarou started to ask, but he fell silent as he followed Hanamaki through the door. The room they entered was large, dark, and full of people. The air was thick with smoke, and the music, quiet from outside, wrapped around him now in full, intoxicating force. His eyes were drawn immediately to a stage in the front of the room, and they went wide when he saw what was going on atop it: a man, beautiful, lithe, and so very close to nude, was dancing sensually around a chair. His body rolled and twisted along to the swing of the jazz. As Hanamaki closed the door behind them, the man's steely eyes shot up and locked onto Koutatou's. A shiver ran through his body.  
"Uh oh," chuckled Hanamaki. "You've been spotted."  
The song ended, and the crowd flooded the area in front of the stage, wild with cheers. A few people attempted to climb onto the stage, but they were quickly pulled back by their jealous fellow audience members. The dancer gathered his clothes and sauntered through a pair of curtains that hung off stage right, impervious to the pleas from his fans to remain.  
"Alright, time to go meet the boss." Hanamaki led Koutarou around the outskirts of the crowd to a door, and, unlocking it with a key, beckoned Kou inside. Kou did as he was instructed, entering the dimly-lit room. He turned to ask Hanamaki a question, but the door closed in his face. He was alone.  
"So," called a sultry voice from the far corner of the room.  
Koutarou jumped. He was not alone.  
"Bokuto Koutarou, tell me why you were fifteen minutes late to your first day on the job. Hanamaki made it sound like this was important to you..."  
"I- this is important to me," Kou said, his voice quavering the slightest bit. This whole situation made him uneasy.  
"Then... why were you late? Surely, if this was an important job to you, you would've made an effort to arrive... on time?"  
The slow clack of high heels rang out from the dusk as the man approached Kou. As he stepped into the dim light, Koutarou's eyes went wide. Standing in front of him now, clad only in a diaphonous silk kimono, was the man from the stage.  
"You seem surprised," the man husked, taking a step closer to Koutarou. "Didn't Hanamaki-"  
"Hanamaki didn't tell me anything," Koutarou sputtered.  
"Don't," the man said icily, laying a hand on Kou's shoulder, "interrupt me." He circled around Koutarou, fingers tracing his back as he went. A shiver ran up Kou's spine as he felt the man move. "You're strong, I can tell..." His nails ran up and down the cotton of Koutarou's shirt. "But so nervous. I wonder if you can be strong when I need you to be."  
"I need this job," Koutarou said, his voice as firm as he could muster. Hanamaki had told him that is was a bouncer-type deal. He couldn't picture himself dancing like... His face went red at the memory. Kou let out a huff of determination. He really did need the job. "It doesn't matter what I have to do, I'll do it."  
The man laughed, and Koutarou's face betrayed his confusion. "Oh, no, dear," he said, in between peals of laughter. "I appreciate your tenacity, but we have enough dancers. And I wonder if you could even handle being on stage," he teased, his hand now tracing the blushing curve of Kou's cheek. "My name is Akaashi Keiji," said the man, turning away from Kou. "I'll see you tomorrow at 9 pm. Don't be late this time."  
Akaashi's heels clicked against the floor as he left Koutarou, who was still trying to rationalize the entire exchange. It wasn't until he heard a door pull shut that he came to his senses and left the room himself, in search of Hanamaki.


	2. It Would Have Been Nice To Know What I Was Walking Into

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> icky man writes chapter two, who can say what he'll do next, where does he draw the line, horrible

"A burlesque club, Kenma?!" Kou was incredulous. "You didn't think that might be a detail I'd want to know in advance?!"  
"You said you were desperate! The pay at the Owl is better than any other job you could get with your, let's see... zero skills!" Kenma fired back. Kenma Kozume, owner and operator of a bar-turned-restaurant called the Alley Cat, was the friend who had put Koutarou in touch with Hanamaki Takahiro, bartender at the aforementioned burlesque club, the Glass Owl. Koutarou had met Kenma through a high school buddy, Kuroo Tetsurou, who now worked the floor at Kenma's restaurant, and who was never one to miss the chance to get in a good jibe.  
"What," the aggravator called, "scared you'll pitch a tent on duty and get your ass thrown out?"  
Kou shot Kuroo a look, before turning back to Kenma. "I do need the money," he relented, "but it would've been nice to know what I was walking into."  
"Oh," Kuroo teased, "so you've already made a fool of yourself then!" He snorted at his own joke, pounding a fist on the table he was wiping down.   
"Ignore him," Kenma said, pouring a drink into a squat, crystal glass and sliding it to his embarrassed friend.   
"Oh, I make a habit of it," Kou sighed, taking a swig. "Thanks, Kenma. Hopefully, this job will pull me out of the red."  
Koutarou was in the red -- deep in it. He had wanted to go to college; to make something of himself, but after one semester the funds from his loan had run out, and the interest was already building up. He hadn't even made it a year when he had to call it quits. From there, he worked on docks, in warehouses, on build sites, but his debt just kept piling up, and Kou could never hold down a job long enough to get a raise. He wasn't even sure how much he owed anymore.   
The clock on the wall read 8:30. Kou stood up and stretched. "I've got to get moving," he said, sliding his glass back to Kenma. "the boss wants me there at 9." He ambled through the door of the Alley Cat, in no hurry to be out in the cold again.  
"Good luck!" Kenma called after him.  
He tipped his head at his friends through the window and was off.  
+++  
Koutarou arrived at the Glass Owl with a chapped face and stiff fingers from the cold. He entered through the back, uneventfully this time, and found Hanamaki and another man pulling on their uniforms in the staff room.   
"Koutarou!" Hanamaki smiled at him while shimmying into his pants. "Glad to see you made it on time," he said. Once fully clothed, he turned and gestured to the man next to him. "This is Matsukawa Issei."  
"Ossu," Matsukawa nodded at him.   
"He works the door, makes sure we don't get overcrowded. And he keeps the assholes out." Hanamaki threw an arm around   
Matsukawa, who did not seem adverse to the touch.   
This seemed like a nice place to work, Kou thought.  
"That's your uniform, there," Hanamaki said, pointing to a stack of neatly folded clothes. "You can choose whichever locker you want. It's just the three of us back here."  
Matsukawa noticed the confusion on Koutarou's face. "The dancers have their own dressing room backstage," he said. "Sorry if you were hoping to get a peek."  
Hanamaki let out a laugh at the sight of the blush rising to Koutarou's cheeks. "Careful Matsu," he said in between chuckles. "Look at the poor man's face -- you'll kill him!"  
Koutarou forced a smile at his new workmates. They certainly were a lively pair. They reminded him of Kuroo, a connection which sent a shiver through him. He prayed the three would never meet, or at least that he wouldn't be in the room if they did.  
His coworkers left the staff room to go open up, and Kou turned to his uniform. He reached for the nearest locker and opened it, preparing to throw his things inside. He was tugging off his shirt when he heard the door open.  
"Did you forget something," he said, tugging his shoes off.  
"...I'm glad to see you made it on time today," said a familiar voice. Kou's head snapped up, and sure enough, Akaashi Keiji stood in the doorway before him.  
Koutarou tried to take a deep breath, but it came in all shaky and cold against the back of his throat. There was something about his boss that left him unable to relax, something beyond his minimally clothed body. Akaashi's eyes seemed to pin him to his spot and pick him apart. Kou felt a new heat spreading across his face, and he hoped he wasn't as red as he imagined he was, but by the smile that curled up on his boss's face, he was sure he was.  
Akaashi walked toward him, every step slow and deliberate. "You seem nervous," he said, reaching up to cup Koutarou's burning cheek. "I just came to make sure you were aware of your duties this evening."  
His last statement pulled Kou from his paralysis. That was right, he thought, he still had no idea what he was expected to do here.  
"Finish dressing and I'll show you," Akaashi said, his hand falling from Kou's face. There were a few moments of silence, and Kou was sure that Akaashi could hear his heartbeat. Finally, his boss sighed and, turning away from him, said, "I guess I'll give you some privacy. I'll be right outside." With that, he was gone.  
+++  
Kou was fully dressed, save for the tie in his hands, which he had no idea how to properly knot around his neck. He chewed on his bottom lip a moment, deliberating between trying to ad-lib a presentable knot or going tie-less. Shrugging, he shoved it into his pocket. He would have to ask Hanamaki to teach him later.   
Kou exited the staff room and found Akaashi waiting outside, as he had promised. His back was against the wall, and he picked at his nails absentmindedly. At the sound of the door, he raised his head.  
"Where is your tie?" he asked as he approached Koutarou once again. "It's not optional."  
Koutarou sheepishly pulled it from his pocket. "I, uh... I don't know how to-"  
His voice died in his throat as Akaashi pulled the tie from his hand. The shorter man reached up, wrapping the fabric gingerly around Kou's neck. His eyes were locked onto Koutarou's as he worked. With a final tug, the tie was tied. Akaashi stepped back, and Koutarou subconsciously mourned the loss of his closeness.


End file.
